


repeat the sounding joy

by ataxophilia



Category: Chaos Walking - Patrick Ness
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Christmas, M/M, Minor Character Death, cwss14
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 04:16:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2837675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ataxophilia/pseuds/ataxophilia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Ben can only smile, warm but helpless in the face of everything they've been through in the last twelve months, and keep thinking, we'll be okay, as Cillian wanders out of the prayer room and down to Todd's room.) Ben and Cillian's first christmas, after. For the CWSS14.</p>
            </blockquote>





	repeat the sounding joy

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, moregeously! I'm sorry for posting this early -- although hopefully you won't see it until tomorrow -- but I won't have internet to post this with on Christmas day. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Warnings for off-screen canonical character deaths and references to them. 
> 
> Completely unbeta'd. I apologise for any glaring mistakes -- please, feel free to let me know if you spot any! 
> 
> Written for the CWSS14.

The first Christmas on the New World after the war was finally over was picturesque, like something straight out of the old Christmas cards Ben used to see in museums on Old World. The sky was a bright, clear blue, the clouds chased away by a brisk breeze. The trees were all more white than green from so much snow. New Elizabeth itself was covered in a thick enough blanket that the streets crunched underfoot as people streamed from building to building to chatter excitedly with their neighbours.

Marian was 30 weeks gone, but that didn't stop her from making her way over to Ben and Cillian's house, all the way out on the edge of town. Her whole face was flushed and wind-chafed when Ben opened the door, and it creased into a wide smile when she saw them both.

"Merry New Christmas," she said, leaning in to peck Ben on the cheek.

"Just Christmas, surely," Cillian replied drily, tilting his face obligingly as Marian pushed past Ben to get at him, too. "Or are we going to have add a 'New' to everything in our lives, now?"

Marian tutted fondly, tapping her palm against the spot she'd just kissed in a weak imitation of a slap. "Don't be such a spoilsport, Cill. You'll ruin the Christmas mood."

"Oh, he can't help it," Ben interjected. "He's incapable of being in a good mood when everyone else is. It's what makes him so lovable."

"Neither of you are giving me any reason to cheer up," Cillian told them both, folding his arms over his chest and scowling dramatically, but despite his complaints his noise was full of a quiet, warm joy. When Chris arrived a few minutes later, laden down with gifts and food, he found Ben bent over with laughter and Marian whacking at Cillian's arm as Cillian sang obnoxious Christmas songs in his noise, a smug kind of, "Happy now?" running underneath.

It's one of Ben's warmest memories of New Elizabeth — just out of one war, blind to the next. When he pictures Marian and Chris now, it's that Christmas day, the both of them sat at the rickety, handmade table in Ben and Cillian's kitchen, swapping stories around a proper roast, like back on Old World.

One year later, he wakes up to an empty bed on Christmas morning. The door is slightly ajar and he can't hear anything from Todd's room, so Cillian will be in the prayer room, he knows. And, sure enough, once he's pushed himself out of bed he follows Cillian's noise to the back of the house.

Cillian is kneeling by the old kitchen table. He doesn't move when Ben enters the room and settles cross-legged on the floor next to him; he doesn't ever acknowledge Ben until his prayer is done. Usually, Ben is happy to wait, letting the soft lilt of Cillian's words wash over him, but today Cillian's face is blank and he's drowning out his prayer with the poem he learned in school when he was thirteen. It's the same poem he always uses when he wants to keep Ben out of his noise, and Ben hates it, now. All Ben wants is for him to look up and smile, or nod, or do anything to reassure Ben that he isn't shutting himself off again, like he did in the weeks after Marian and Chris died.

After what feels like an eternity, Cillian lifts his head and exhales slowly. "Merry New Christmas," he says, and it's no better than the silence. His voice is edged with bitterness — Ben can hear it in his noise, too, under the poem he's still chanting — and he's still staring straight ahead, away from Ben.

Ben flinches a little, at the words and the tone, but he leans in anyway, resting his shoulder against Cillian's. "Don't," he says, quietly. "Please, Cillian. Not today."

For a moment, Cillian tenses. Ben readies himself for a fight; it's been a while since they fought over Chris and Marian, but he still remembers how badly they hurt each other, how well they learnt exactly which insults stung the worst.

But Cillian just sighs and reaches out to lace his fingers through Ben's. "I'm sorry." He looks around, finally, and quirks a soft, sad half-smile. "You're right. Not today."

Ben relaxes, leaning more heavily into Cillian, and when he smiles, it's a real one. "Thank you," he says, and then, as he starts to add that he misses them, too, that he still aches whenever he sees the table or the photos splayed across it, Todd starts to wail. Cillian hears it anyway, in Ben's noise, of course he does, but it's not the same. Some things, they've learnt, need to be said out loud.

"So it begins," he says, instead, and Cillian huffs an amused laugh.

"I'll go fetch the monster, you get some breakfast together?" Ben nods, and Cillian squeezes gently at his hand. "We'll be okay," he says. Ben's not sure if it's meant to be a question or a reassurance.

"We'll be okay," he repeats. Cillian's smile is still sad, but he leans down to press a kiss against the corner of Ben's mouth before he pushes to his feet.

"Of course we are," he says, as though it was never in doubt. Ben can only smile, warm but helpless in the face of everything they've been through in the last twelve months, and keep thinking, _we'll be okay_ , as Cillian wanders out of the prayer room and down to Todd's room.

When he hears Cillian talking to Todd, when Todd's shouting drops to a more human level, Ben stands up and runs his fingers lightly over the old photos. They were Marian's — wedding photos, her and Chris, and her parents, and one of Ben and Cillian on the ship. She gave them to Cillian hours before she was killed, and they still haven't moved from where Cillian threw them when he ran out after the shots started.

Soon, Ben thinks, they'll have to clear the room out. The photos will need to be hidden, and the journal Marian handed over with them, so they won't end up sprawled over Todd's noise. But for now, for this first broken, lopsided Christmas, they can stay on show, Marian and Chris and the lives they were stolen from.

There's a lullaby running through Cillian's noise, one that Marian used to sing to Todd. Cillian only knows a handful of the words, but he's got the tune down, and that's enough to calm both Todd and Ben down. Todd's noise is still full of baby nonsense and awe at everything that happens around him. It's familiar, now, in the same way Cillian's is. Ben's mind feels empty without it when he goes deep enough into the woods that he can't hear him. He doesn't know if Todd feels it too, if Todd misses his noise when it fades away — but he hopes he does. They're all they have, the three of them.

It's not quite home, not quite enough, but it's getting closer.

Cillian's noise fills with a matching warmth as Ben thinks it, and Todd's goes soft and happy, too, even if he doesn't understand why, and, yeah.

This could be home.

**Author's Note:**

> Once more, Merry Christmas to moregeously -- I hope it's a fab one! -- and to everyone else in the CWSS14, and the Chaos Walking fandom in general. You're all wonderful.


End file.
